The Sly Cat
by Tennyo
Summary: Serena Huntington is the owner of a popular club, The Sly Cat. However, that's not all she is. With Darien Renfield as her partner in crime, they both show the world that being orphans doesn't mean they don't get to live the life they've always wanted...
1. prologue

The Sly Cat  
  
--Prologue  
  
:|Tennyo  
  
An auburn-haired woman calmly walked up the paved driveway of the   
  
Wilmington mansion. She was dressed in a flowery sundress that billowed at the hips   
  
with lace tracing the edges. Had her eyes been unadorned with a pair of chic   
  
sunglasses, a passing stranger would have noticed that it was a unique lavender   
  
haze. The palm straw hat complete with a lilac silk ribbon complemented her outfit   
  
perfectly.   
  
Her dainty hands were covered in a pair of white gloves that one might wear   
  
to Sunday church. As she raised her finger to ring the doorbell, she plastered on the   
  
smile that had won hundreds of people over.   
  
Serena Huntington stood in front of the grand wooden doors, poised and   
  
composed. Her hands were now clutching onto her white leather purse.  
  
The door opened without a sound, indicating the fine upkeep of this old place,   
  
and an aged butler appeared before her.  
  
He cleared his throat before asking, "Excuse me madam, how may I help   
  
you?"  
  
Serena smiled sweetly. "Yes. I'm looking for Mr. Thomas Wilmington."  
  
He raised his left eyebrow suspiciously. "And you are…?"  
  
"Kate," she said, "Kate Drexel."  
  
The old chap coughed nervously and Serena couldn't help but smile. He was   
  
worried that he might've forgotten the name of someone who could quite possibly be   
  
a friend of the family.   
  
"I'm sorry; I don't recognize the name. Is Mr. Wilmington expecting you?"  
  
Serena shook her head politely. "No, he isn't," she grinned, "I'm afraid I   
  
didn't make an appointment."  
  
He almost smiled before he caught himself. "Excuse me then, while I go tell   
  
Mr. Wilmington you're here." He turned to go, but Serena stopped him with a hand   
  
on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, but what's your name?"  
  
He turned around and lifted a bushy eyebrow, sprinkled with white. "Pardon?"  
  
"Your name, sir," she inquired.  
  
He looked confused, as if he wasn't accustomed to people asking for his   
  
name. People usually ignored him. It was as if they had a mental label on him   
  
saying, "To be noticed, when needed."   
  
"My-my name?" he stuttered.  
  
"Yes," she laughed lightly, "the name that people use to identify you."  
  
"Ah, yes-um," The butler laughed nervously. "James," he said, "James   
  
Erning."  
  
"Ah!" she exclaimed, "Mr. Erning," she stuck her hand out, "Nice to meet   
  
you."   
  
James shook her hand a little too vigorously, apparently shaken by the   
  
exchange.  
  
"Er, yes," he said uncertainly, "The pleasure is mine."  
  
Still slightly confused, he bowed hastily.  
  
"Please excuse me while I go inform Mr. Wilmington," he said quickly. James   
  
turned to walk towards a closed door that was located to the right of the entryway,   
  
leaving the great, marvelous door opened.   
  
Serena smiled in satisfaction.  
  
"Beautiful."  
  
Serena flinched and turned around. Her eyes searched the professionally   
  
manicured lawn.   
  
Finding nothing, she turned around and began to step into the doorway.  
  
"I'm always amazed how they always manage to do that." The voice said   
  
again.  
  
Serena grew irritated and whispered into the hidden microphone on the lapel   
  
of her dress. "You idiot! You're supposed to be working in the back!" she scathed,   
  
"And stop talking so loudly! I can hear you just fine!"  
  
"Ok, ok!" the voice said, "And I'm not talking loudly! You need to adjust the   
  
volume!"  
  
Serena sighed, lifted up her dress to adjust the volume on the contraption   
  
that was tied around her thigh. "Speak," she commanded.  
  
"You can't cook cheese."  
  
Satisfied with the volume, she placed her dress back into place and smoothed   
  
out the wrinkles. "Tsk," she said, "You always come up with the most ridiculous   
  
remarks."  
  
"Oh excuuuse me," the voice said sarcastically, "I'm sorry I can't think of   
  
clever repartee to the word "speak" at a moment's notice."  
  
Serena sighed exasperatedly, "Darien, shut up and tell me your current   
  
position."  
  
For once, he listened without arguing. "I'm on the left side of the house, right   
  
n- Shit!"  
  
"Darien! Darien!" Serena whispered in a panic, "What happened!"  
  
"Ugh," he groaned, "I just knocked my head into an air conditioner."  
  
Serena snickered, "That's the second time it's happened this month."  
  
"Yeah, well," he said, "If they're so rich then why won't they install central air   
  
conditioning?"  
  
"Because it's an old mansion, Darien. I'd doubt the Wilmingtons would want   
  
their family house to be torn apart just so some stupid idiot wouldn't bang his head   
  
on a regular air conditioner."   
  
Serena stepped into the entryway and surveyed her surroundings. She took   
  
her sunglasses and her straw hat off, studying the marble statues and the wide   
  
staircase. She went over everything in her head.  
  
The children were with the nanny in the playground, and the wife was out   
  
shopping. They wouldn't be back for another hour or so, leaving them ample time to   
  
set everything in motion.  
  
The sophisticated alarm system they had was useless. Like most people, the   
  
Wilmingtons assumed that no one would dare enter their threshold in the bright of   
  
day. It was only turned on at night or when the whole family left the house.  
  
Everything was in place.  
  
"How are you on the backdoor?" Serena said into the mini-microphone.  
  
Darien grunted. "It's way more elaborate than the front door. It's gonna take   
  
some time, Serena. Time I'm not sure we have."   
  
Serena walked into the kitchen and smiled. It was the exact replica of the   
  
kitchen she had seen in a furniture magazine. It was the only hint of any remodeling   
  
done in the place and it stuck out like a sore thumb. The rest of the mansion   
  
remained untouched. The first Wilmington that built the place was particularly fond   
  
of the 18th century French design.  
  
Her smile widened as she saw a man dressed completely in black hunched   
  
behind the metal-barred glass door.  
  
"Aren't you hot in that?"  
  
The man behind the door automatically pressed his body to the ground and   
  
rolled out of sight.  
  
Serena shook her head in amusement, "Darien, it's me."  
  
The man rolled back and crouched on the balls of his feet. "Serena!" he   
  
exclaimed, "You scared the shit outta me!"  
  
"Serves you right for not realizing I was here 'til I was practically right in front   
  
of your face," she said, "Ya getting rusty, Darien?"  
  
Darien gave her a look that could only be considered dirty, "The lock is kinda   
  
hard, okay?"  
  
Serena gasped mockingly, "Hard? Oh no! The world is coming to an end! A   
  
lock that Darien Renfield can't pick!"  
  
He glared at her. "Shut up and open the friggin' door."  
  
Serena smiled in amusement and was about to reach for the handle when she   
  
heard voices down the hall. "Shit! Gotta go! People coming down the hall!"  
  
Before Darien could utter a response, she darted out of the door opposite the   
  
one where the footsteps were approaching.  
  
She hurriedly ran into the carpeted hallway, grateful for its thickness that   
  
muffled the noise of her high heels. The hallway led into the waiting room, just like   
  
her informant had said.  
  
It was really nice how one room is always connected to the next, she thought.   
  
Settling herself onto the leather couch, she smoothed out her skirt and smiled   
  
pleasantly as the knob of the door across the hall, which James had hurriedly gone   
  
into, turned.  
  
A man in his early fifties stepped out. He was wearing a pinstripe business   
  
suit that no doubt came straight from the cleaners.  
  
Or maybe they don't go to the cleaners, she thought, maybe they have their   
  
very own ironing press at home.  
  
The man cleared his throat and looked down at her. It was a look that could   
  
only be identified with a man who was used to people working under him all his life.  
  
"Yes?" he said with a raised eyebrow, "Do I know you?"  
  
Swallowing her disgust, Serena gave a megawatt smile, bearing teeth and all,   
  
and replied, "No, but you will."  
  
"And just what is that supposed to mean?" he said in a condescending tone.  
  
Serena smiled patiently and took a folded manila envelope out of her purse.   
  
She took out a packet of very authentic looking papers and smoothed it out on the   
  
coffee table.  
  
Wilmington gave her a suspicious look and bent down to pick up the papers.   
  
After reading the first couple of lines, he threw the papers down onto the table.   
  
"What is the meaning of this?" he said, rage filling his brown eyes.  
  
"No meaning in it at all," she said, her voice empty of any emotion, "It is   
  
what you will make of it."  
  
He examined her warily; his brown eyes looking at her auburn hair and   
  
lavender orbs. It did not make sense at all.  
  
"You," he pointed a finger at her, his voice scalding with anger, "Are not my   
  
daughter."  
  
Serena calmly took a look at his graying hair that was gelled back. He was   
  
rather handsome- if you took away the snobby demeanor he effortlessly gave off.  
  
She shrugged gracefully, "I'm not here to claim any sort of family fortune. I'm   
  
only here to meet the father that I've been searching for twelve years."  
  
Wilmington looked up, the heat of his anger slowly fading away, "Twelve   
  
years? You don't look twelve to me."  
  
Serena gave him a flat look. For such a brilliant businessman, he was daft in   
  
any other subject. "I obviously didn't start looking for you the moment I came out of   
  
my mother's womb."  
  
At the mention of a mother, Wilmington's anger flared back to life. "And who   
  
might your mother be, may I ask?" he said in clipped tone, not believing for one   
  
second that this woman was related to him in anyway possible. To him, she was just   
  
another lass looking for a way to get in on the family fortune.  
  
Serena gave him a cool look and replied simply, "April Drexel."  
  
The name shook him and the color drained away from his face. He looked as   
  
if he had seen a ghost. Flashes of bright, lilac eyes passed through his mind. Sounds   
  
of innocent laughter.  
  
"A-April?"  
  
"Yes, April," she said, "The woman you fucked and promised to marry when   
  
you just got out of college. But once your dear old dad threatened to take away your   
  
trust fund, you dumped her like yesterday's garbage.   
  
Serena looked at the old fellow whose icy demeanor was draining away. All of   
  
a sudden, his imposing stance seemed frail and shaken as he unsteadily sat down on   
  
his favorite armchair.  
  
Serena sighed and couldn't help but pity him. He was just another rich   
  
bastard that didn't care for much but his own fortune. What a sad life it must be, to   
  
be married to a woman that he didn't love.  
  
Bullshit.   
  
Serena quickly reminded herself that this "old fellow" had screwed the maid   
  
and let the wife fire her without doing anything about it.   
  
This weasel was going to get a bitter taste of his own medicine.  
  
"What?" Serena said, "Did you think giving her a few thousand dollars would   
  
shut her up?"  
  
Wilmington flinched at the mention of the money his father had given her to   
  
take the child and leave. April was told never to set foot on the Wilmington Estate or   
  
contact any of its family members, unless she wanted to be arrested.  
  
"Well, it might have worked," Serena continued without pause, "But this   
  
bitch," she pointed to herself, "was enraged for having such a father. A father who   
  
thought that money could throw away a two year relationship."  
  
She put her hands on both sides of the armchair, leaned in so that she was   
  
face to face with the old bastard and gave him the best evil look she could muster.  
  
"It wasn't enough," she said through gritted teeth.  
  
Wilmington looked shocked as if it were the first time in his life that anyone   
  
dared to challenge him. And maybe it was.   
  
He looked startled for a moment more then began to regain his composure.  
  
"Look here," he said, "I gave her more money than anyone in his right mind   
  
would think to give to a whore who got lucky just because the condom tore one   
  
night."  
  
He glared at her and before he knew what hit him, Serena stood up in a flash   
  
and slapped him right across the cheeks.  
  
"You!" she shoved a pointed finger in his face, "You be careful who you're   
  
talking to. Don't you DARE call my mother a whore! "  
  
For a second or two, he tended to his reddened cheek, massaging the pain   
  
away until he realized what he was doing. He stood up so fast that the armchair   
  
scraped against the cool marble and raised his arm to land a blow.   
  
Serena saw it coming and was about to knee him in the groin before he could   
  
get a chance to do it when James walked in.  
  
The old chap looked startled to see his disgruntled master about to lay a hand   
  
on such a lovely young woman.  
  
"S-Sir!"  
  
Wilmington ignored him and continued to stare pointedly at Serena.  
  
"Leave James," he said, "Now."  
  
Serena stared right back at him, daring him to slap her just like he had   
  
slapped all the women he had ever been with.  
  
"No James!" she ordered, "Stay!"  
  
James looked from one person to the next, unsure of what to do. He felt   
  
compelled to stay to make sure this delightful young woman left unharmed, but he   
  
was supposed to obey his master.   
  
Wilmington's head turned slowly, the way predators do when they've spotted   
  
their prey.  
  
"What," he demanded, "Are you still doing here?"  
  
James looked down at his hands and remembered why he had even stepped   
  
into this room in the first place.  
  
"Yo-Your tea, sir."  
  
Serena took that moment to step out of Wilmington's reach, just in time to   
  
hear Darien through her earpiece.  
  
"I'm in."  
  
Serena smiled smugly and gave Wilmington a deathly glare.   
  
"If you want to hit me, then you'd better do it now." She smiled at him, and it   
  
wasn't at all pleasant. "That is, if you want me to sue you for everything you've got."  
  
Wilmington looked at his raised hand, as if realizing it was there for the first   
  
time. He glared at her and said, "You wouldn't dare."   
  
"Oh," she replied, "I would. Not only for abuse, but also for twenty eight   
  
years of neglecting to pay for child support."  
  
Wilmington snickered and whipped out his checkbook. "Is that all? Is it money   
  
you want? How much will it take for you to shut up and leave?" he said confidently   
  
with his pen poised over his leather bound checkbook.   
  
"I got it." Darien said over the earpiece.  
  
Serena smiled bitterly.   
  
"You won't be able to write this problem away."  
  
With that last comment, she picked up the papers and left.   
  
  
  
---  
  
tennyo012@yahoo.com  
  
Remember kiddies! This is only the prologue. :D 


	2. one

The Sly Cat  
  
--Chapter One   
  
:|Tennyo  
  
Serena Huntington sat behind the mahogany desk in her office. It was located   
  
in the back of the second floor of her club, The Sly Cat. Her dance club was very   
  
popular amongst the club raving crowd and was often packed, even on weeknights.  
  
Her feet were perched atop her desk, shaking restlessly as she flipped   
  
through pages and pages of legal mumbo jumbo. Serena read the same line she had   
  
been reading for the past twenty minutes.   
  
  
  
Screw this, she thought. Serena tossed the file onto her desk, along with the   
  
other papers that she had been looking at the entire morning. She sighed at the bills   
  
that needed to be paid. Running a club wasn't cheap.  
  
Business wouldn't pick up for a few more hours. The customers that came at   
  
this hour were loners who had no place else to go and barely any money to spend.   
  
Whatever money they managed to get a hold of was spent recklessly on booze and   
  
cigarettes. It was sad that she was making money off of them, but it wasn't like she   
  
was forcing them to drink their lives away. Besides, business is business.  
  
She drummed her fingernails against the desk. It was a familiar gesture that   
  
she found herself doing when she needed something, but what?  
  
It had been bothering her all day. Something she should be doing, but she   
  
just couldn't figure it out. Serena sighed impatiently and abruptly stood up from her   
  
leather chair. She marched towards the door, determined to walk off her   
  
restlessness.  
  
Just as she reached for the doorknob, it turned and opened so quickly that   
  
she didn't have time to react. Before she knew it, the door slammed into her nose.  
  
"Shit!" she cursed while hurriedly crawling away before it could happen again.  
  
Darien's eyes bulged when he saw what he had done. He had been in a rush   
  
to tell her that the inspectors were here. They performed random checkups to make   
  
sure everything was running up to par.  
  
He rushed to Serena, who was lying on the floor on her side with her eyes   
  
shut and her hand caressing her nose, and inspected her nose.  
  
"It doesn't look too bad."  
  
Serena opened her tear-stained eyes and glared at him. "Want me to shove a   
  
door in your face so you can find out?" she threatened through her nasal congested   
  
voice.  
  
Being that she was lying on the floor in pain and talking like Droopy, she   
  
wasn't very intimidating. Besides, at 5' 4" with her blond hair and eyes the color of a   
  
clear spring sky, she looked downright dainty. It was all right though; she liked   
  
giving people that impression.  
  
Darien ignored her and felt her nose for signs of broken cartilage.  
  
  
  
"You'll be alright. It'll be swollen for a couple of days, but that's it," he said,   
  
"Nothing's broken."  
  
Serena sat up and wiped her eyes. It always tears up whenever something   
  
hits her nose. She remembered the other incident when some shit-head slipped and   
  
ended up passing the basketball to her face. Justice was served, however, when she   
  
repaid him by giving him a black eye.  
  
She smiled crookedly, "You better hope so, you numb-nut."  
  
Darien offered a hand to help her stand, but she ignored it and got up herself.   
  
She was still a little bit shaky, but she managed.  
  
"Okay, now what is so damn urgent that you needed to barge in here like a   
  
mad cow?"  
  
"The inspectors are here."  
  
"Ugh. That's already twice this year," she said, "Just because the club's   
  
pumpin' every night doesn't mean we're out dealing drugs."  
  
"Yeah, well. They never know now, do they?"  
  
Serena rolled her eyes in exasperation and grabbed some tissue from her   
  
desk.   
  
"Well, come on," she said as she walked in a confident stride towards the   
  
door, "Don't wanna keep the lovely inspectors waiting."  
  
`---+  
  
"I'm surprised," said Darien, "You were very courteous to the nice inspector   
  
people."  
  
Serena shrugged indifferently and walked towards her desk, "It's always good   
  
to be polite to our government."  
  
  
  
Darien raised his eyebrow but didn't say anything. Not that he was   
  
complaining, but Serena hated the government and didn't want anything to do with   
  
it. If she had it her way, she wouldn't pay taxes. But then, the IRS agents would be   
  
pounding on her door.  
  
  
  
Aw, what the heck. He had to bite. "What's wrong, Serena?"  
  
Serena turned around in a flourish, bedazzling Darien with her brilliant smile.  
  
Darien frowned. "Cut that out."  
  
Her smile grew wider, "Cut what out?"  
  
"The charm-," he eyed her suspiciously, "What did you do?"  
  
"Me?" her eyes widened, "I didn't do anything."  
  
  
  
Darien crossed his arms stubbornly and leaned his back against the door. "I'm   
  
not leaving until you tell me what's going on."  
  
  
  
She began to walk slowly towards him, dragging out her every step, making   
  
sure his eyes were focused on the seductive sway of her hips, the inviting look in her   
  
eyes. It was hard to be sexy in a business suit, but she managed.  
  
  
  
Darien felt his mouth go dry and his pulse speed up.   
  
  
  
'Damn!' he thought, 'she's doing it again!'  
  
  
  
He forced his eyes to look up, but the view wasn't any better on his nerves.   
  
Nerves of steel he did not have.  
  
  
  
His attention narrowed in on the sensual curve of her lips and the heated   
  
gaze in her eyes. It was a gaze that promised oh so much- if only he would allow it!   
  
The nose wasn't even much of a distraction, even though it was beginning to swell.  
  
  
  
A blast of memory hit him.   
  
  
  
Urgent hands. Rapid breathing. Sweating bodies.   
  
  
  
Darien slammed his fist into the door and looked up towards the ceiling,   
  
searching for any kind of help that would smother the flame growing in his belly.  
  
  
  
"Dammit, Serena!" he yelled, "Don't do this!"  
  
"Do what?" she said innocently.  
  
  
  
Her eyes gave her away though; it showed uninhibited desire and other   
  
thoughts. Thoughts only a lover would know.  
  
  
  
She was deeply amused, however, at his desperate fight for control. It   
  
satisfied her to no end when she saw Darien fight temptation. It was even more   
  
pleasing when he fought and failed.  
  
  
  
"Great," he said, "Fucking great. So you're laughing at me now too, huh?"  
  
"No," she cooed, "I would never do that."   
  
  
  
She slowly closed her eyes and gave him the best view of her long eyelashes,   
  
knowing full well that it drove Darien crazy. She put her hand on his chest and   
  
leaned into him, inch by inch until their lips were so, incredibly close. A deep breath   
  
could close that small, insignificant amount of space.   
  
  
  
Darien had stopped breathing. His hands were behind him, pressing into his   
  
back, as if he was afraid what he would do with them.  
  
  
  
'No,' he thought, 'I won't give in to her again.'  
  
  
  
He tilted his chin up, tightened his lips, and took a deep breath that calmed   
  
him to the center of his being.  
  
  
  
And the desire was gone.  
  
  
  
Darien wasn't foolish enough to believe it had completely left him. God no,   
  
only an ice cold shower could cool that. It was shoved away for now, and that was   
  
the best he could do. He looked down with empty cobalt eyes, and saw her anger.   
  
She wasn't going to get what she wanted.  
  
  
  
Darien smiled cockily and played with a tendril of blond hair that had fallen   
  
over her eyes, just the way he liked it.   
  
  
  
"Your hair looks better like this."  
  
  
  
Serena snorted and got off Darien in one smooth, fluid motion. She walked   
  
towards her desk and plopped down on her swinging leather chair. She started   
  
twirling it around and playing with her nails at the same time.  
  
  
  
"Of course it does," she said casually, "I was born with it."  
  
Darien snorted, "Yeah, right."  
  
Serena stopped and raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You don't believe me?"  
  
  
  
Darien pushed himself off the door and lied on the black leather couch that   
  
was against the wall to the right of the door.  
  
  
  
"There is no such thing as a true blonde," he stated.  
  
"I can't believe it," she said incredulously, "We've known each other for what-   
  
twenty five years? And you don't know that I'm a true blonde?"  
  
"Twenty six years," he stated, "You came to the orphanage when you were   
  
two."   
  
"So you think I've been dying my hair blonde since I was two years old."  
  
Her remark was met by silence. See, men are dumber than women after all.   
  
No scientific research needed; the evidence was right there in front of her eyes.  
  
  
  
"Okay…" he finally admitted, "So I was wrong. How'd you get all that hair to   
  
go red anyways?"  
  
"Not red," she corrected, "auburn. And temporary hair dye. Washes right   
  
out."  
  
"Really? I should get me one of those. I was thinking of dying my hair blue,   
  
just to see how it would look."  
  
Serena snickered. "You would look ridiculous."  
  
"Humph, just like how you looked with that aww-buhn hair?" he mocked.  
  
"I looked fine in that hair."  
  
"Suuree, whatever you say Serena."  
  
"Besides, the black hair suits you. Your eyebrows and eyelashes wouldn't   
  
match the rest of your hair anyway."  
  
"Yeah… how'd you do that?"  
  
"Fake eyelashes and eyebrow pencil."  
  
"Wow."  
  
"Yeah. The wonders of modern makeup."  
  
  
  
For a while, the two just sat there in complete silence, listening to the steady   
  
humming of the air conditioner. Serena was slumped in her chair, in a most   
  
unladylike position, and nibbling on her thumb. Darien was relaxed on the sofa with   
  
his hands tucked behind his head, staring blankly at the ceiling.  
  
It was Darien who broke the silence first.  
  
  
  
"So how'd it go?"  
  
Serena's jaw barely moved. "How'd what go?" she muttered.  
  
He sighed exasperatedly and turned on his side to face Serena with his head   
  
resting on his palm.  
  
"Stop answering all my questions with a question!" he yelled, "And for God's   
  
sake! Stop biting your nails!"  
  
  
  
Serena had to move up a little to see him above the desk and glare at him.   
  
"I'm not!" she exclaimed, "I'm gnawing on the skin on the tip of my thumb."  
  
She raised her hand with her thumb up and pointed with the other hand at   
  
the teeth marks that were on the tip of her thumb, where skin met nail.  
  
  
  
"Seeee!"  
  
"Ugh," he rubbed his hand down his face, "You're sick."  
  
Serena just managed to shrug.  
  
"Anyway," he said, "Stop evading the question. How did things go with   
  
Wilmington?"  
  
"Fine," she said simply, "Everything went according to plan."  
  
"Yeah, right. You were running outta there like the devil was chasing your   
  
tail," he said, "What happened?"  
  
Serena sat up and laid her head on top of the desk. "Ok, things got a little   
  
rough."  
  
  
  
"Rough? What do you mean rough?"  
  
"Who's asking who questions now?"  
  
"Just answer the damn question."  
  
"I slapped him."  
  
Darien sat up so quickly the leather couch made a squeaky noise. "You what!"  
  
"I slapped him."  
  
"Yes, I heard you the first time!" he exclaimed, "What for?"  
  
"He was being an asshole."  
  
"And so… that's cause for you to slap a complete stranger?"  
  
"He offended my mother."  
  
Darien lifted his hands up in wonderment. "What mother!" he said, "You don't   
  
have a mother!"  
  
"Yes I do!" she said defensively, "I have one… somewhere!"  
  
"Whatever," he said, "Anyway, go on."  
  
"Well, she called Kate Drexel's mother a whore," she said, "And if I were   
  
some girl whose absent father was an asshole, which I am by the way, I would slap   
  
him too."  
  
  
  
Darien nodded. "Ok, fine. You got into the role a little bit too much," he said,   
  
"But try not to do it next time okay?"  
  
Serena shrugged. "Okay."  
  
"I mean it Serena. Anything could've happened that could've jeopardized the   
  
mission."  
  
  
  
Serena sat up and her bored look was replaced by cold calculation. "No," she   
  
stated, "It wouldn't."  
  
Darien saw the change in her and felt his eyes grow cold in response. "How   
  
can you be so sure?"  
  
"Because I know exactly what I'm doing."  
  
"Come on, Serena," he said, "People make mistakes."  
  
"Well," she said, "I don't."  
  
"Whatever, yo," he said, "What's up with you today anyway? One minute   
  
you're Ms. Angelic Eyes and the next minute you're Ms. Frigid Bitch."  
  
Serena shrugged. "PMS I guess."  
  
"Yeah, sure. Blame it on your monthly friend."  
  
Serena let out a shrilled laughter that startled Darien to the bone. "Ha!   
  
Monthly friend my ass," she snorted, "More like persistent enemy."  
  
  
  
Darien eyed her narrowly. Something was seriously wrong with her, but he   
  
couldn't figure out what it was. Maybe it was PMS, but he doubted it. She wasn't   
  
usually like this. Something had happened while he was busy breaking into the safe   
  
at the Wilmington mansion.  
  
  
  
He frowned and inspected Serena's expression. It was carefully empty, the   
  
face she used when she was trying real hard to tuck her emotions beneath the   
  
surface. It was a skill that both had learned at the orphanage, when one to many   
  
rejections bit at their hope.  
  
  
  
Darien sighed; he had to let it go. Serena was stubborn when she wanted to   
  
be. His only comfort was the knowledge that she would eventually tell him in her   
  
own time.  
  
  
  
Serena saw Darien scrutinizing her, but she didn't care. He would never   
  
understand. This was the only thing between them that they didn't share, the only   
  
thing that kept them apart.  
  
  
  
'Whatever,' she thought, 'I had enough of this shit for one day.'  
  
"Did you set up the meeting with Kate Drexel?" she blurted.  
  
Darien narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, of course I did," he said defensively, "What.   
  
You think I forgot to do it?"  
  
"No," she reassured, "Just making sure everything's zipped up tight."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," he said while lying back onto the couch.  
  
"Did you have trouble breaking in?"  
  
"No, no," he reassured her, "It was like the maid said, the safe behind the   
  
telltale painting was outdated."  
  
"Where'd you put the stuff?"  
  
  
  
Darien grew irritated. He hated it when she second-guessed what he did, like   
  
she didn't completely trust him to do it correctly. Then again, she had reason to.  
  
  
  
"Where we always put it."  
  
  
  
Serena sighed and got up. She moved one of the chairs that was in front of   
  
her desk and placed it next to the lovely aloe vera plant she had been taking care of   
  
since she got this place three years ago. It required a minimal amount of watering.   
  
And best of all, it could be used for healing cuts and burns. A thing she found herself   
  
needing quite often.   
  
  
  
She got on top of the chair, lifted the ceiling panel and pushed it to the side of   
  
the vent. Then, she bent her hand so that her palms were facing in her direction.   
  
She pushed against a metal box with her fingertips, and it easily slid out of the   
  
enclosure. It was there to hold the box against the front side of the vent, where   
  
people were least likely to look.  
  
  
  
The things she learned as a child were handier in adulthood than most people   
  
would think. Being an orphan had taught her elaborate ways of hiding things she   
  
didn't want others to find. It had helped her pass time as a child, but now it was a   
  
skill that she found even more useful as an adult.  
  
  
  
Serena slid the panel back into place and sat down on the chair. She opened   
  
the metal box with the key that she kept in the soil of her aloe vera plant.  
  
  
  
It was nice how everything was overly complicated, yet simple if you knew   
  
what you were looking for.  
  
  
  
The metal box was about the size of a fanny bag. Serena had covered it with   
  
padding so there wouldn't be too much noise when other things besides money or   
  
savings bonds were in there.  
  
  
  
She emptied the contents onto her lap and began to count.  
  
  
  
After a few minutes of counting and recounting, Serena stood up so fast that   
  
she knocked the chair down and everything on her lap fell onto the floor with a   
  
clang.  
  
  
  
"Darien," she said as calmly as she possibly could, "Not everything's here."  
  
Serena stared pointedly at him, and if looks could kill, he'd be burning in his   
  
grave right now.  
  
He refused to meet her gaze, pretending he hadn't heard.  
  
  
  
"Darien," she said, "Where is the rest of it?" Her voice was like an adult   
  
scolding a child for getting the new carpet dirty by running all over it with mud.   
  
Darien had the urge to squirm, but he refused to give her the pleasure. What   
  
happened earlier was enough show to prove that he didn't have enough control when   
  
it came to Serena.  
  
  
  
"Darien," she said again, "I'm going to ask this one more time." It took more   
  
effort than she cared to admit to contain her anger.  
  
"Where is the rest of the money?"  
  
Darien sighed. He couldn't evade her forever. It was either die now or die   
  
later. He preferred later, but it looked like it would be now.  
  
  
  
"I didn't take it."  
  
"Why?" she said calmly. Such calm was not a good sign. It meant that she   
  
was beyond rage and any attempt at intellectual reasoning would be dismissed as a   
  
pitiful excuse.  
  
  
  
Darien shrugged, hoping to delay the inevitable for as long as he could. He   
  
felt guilty and blameless at the same time. Serena was responsible for the former,   
  
but his conscience was proud of the latter.  
  
  
  
"DARIEN!" she screamed, allowing the fury to consume her. "WHY!"  
  
And to think, such a simple question would have a simple answer. Alas, the   
  
world was never really that fair. He stood up and ran his fingers through his hair.   
  
  
  
"I don't know, okay! Stop yelling at me!"  
  
  
  
Serena marched up to him and punched him straight across his high-sculpted   
  
cheeks. She side swept him with her foot and straddled him on the floor before he   
  
had anytime to take a breath. She grabbed the collar of his midnight blue dress shirt   
  
and pulled on his neck until they were face to face.  
  
  
  
"You are NOT leaving this room until you tell me exactly why you didn't take   
  
all of it," she scathed.  
  
  
  
Darien was shocked. He hadn't known Serena would be able to disable him so   
  
quickly. Of course, he knew she was more capable than most people gave her credit   
  
for, but it still surprised him.  
  
  
  
The story he had concocted was in the far planes of his oh-so-brilliant mind.   
  
For the life of him, and it very well might lead to that, he could not remember the   
  
perfect excuse he had spent so many hours brewing.  
  
  
  
With Serena on top of him like that, he was only reminded of the things they   
  
could be doing that didn't include yelling in each other's faces. Not the way Serena   
  
was doing it now, at least.   
  
  
  
Darien chuckled to himself. He was such a dumbass. Serena looked ready to   
  
wring his neck and all he was thinking about was how good it felt with her on top of   
  
him, the heat of her pulsating above him.   
  
  
  
Serena glared at him and knew what he was thinking about.   
  
Darien Renfield was getting extremely careless. Carelessness could get you   
  
killed.  
  
  
  
She shook her head and sighed. She got off of him and offered a hand to help   
  
him up. Mimicking what she had done earlier, he stood up without her help and   
  
dusted himself off.  
  
  
  
Serena looked at him and knew he had gotten a little bit too excited. It was   
  
all right though, for she had found the perfect moment. She helped him smooth out   
  
the wrinkles that she had made on the iron pressed dress shirt that she had bought   
  
for him and smiled sweetly.  
  
  
  
Then, she knocked his lights out.  
  
---  
  
Tada!~ What a perfect place to end neh?   
  
Feedback por favor! ;]   
  
Tennyo012@yahoo.com 


	3. two

The Sly Cat

--Chapter Two

-:Tennyo

Consciousness slowly returned in inches. The throbbing pain in the center of his skull couldn't possibly be a good sign. It felt like someone was pounding his head with a mallet and was having a jolly good time at it too.

Darien awoke with a groan and clutched his head with his hands. Maybe that would stop the world from spinning so much. He couldn't remember how he ended up on the couch, and when his hands came away with a bit of blood, he couldn't remember how that had gotten there either.

Unsteadily, Darien wobbled into the bathroom that he knew was right next to the couch. The faint orange glow from the streetlights weren't much help, so he had to feel his way through the darkness, hoping to find a light switch. Once he found the switch, he flicked it on, only to wince at the sudden burst of light.

Darien stood before the mirror above the sink. Everything seemed a tad bit surreal at the moment, and he wondered if he really had a concussion. The silence was accompanied by the faint humming of the air conditioner, and beyond that, he could've sworn he heard music.

The music was oddly familiar to him, but his brain found it hard to place where he had heard it. The only feeling that surfaced was of safety and peace. Maybe he really did have a concussion and was beginning to imagine things. If someone were to describe his life, they wouldn't use the words "safety" and "peace". His life went along the lines of danger and risk. Sometimes, he enjoyed the exhilarating rush, but other times, he longed for some peace and quiet.

He examined the mark that stretched from his temple to corner of his right eye. It wasn't black yet, but it definitely would be in a few days. His skin was torn in certain areas, and he added that to the list of questions that was growing with each waking moment.

Darien turned on the faucet and waited a few moments for the water to warm up. He scooped a handful of water and was about to splash his face when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

His hands froze in mid-motion and his body froze. It felt like in the horror movies, when the monster creeps up behind the victim just before it bites his head off. Darien turned his head around slowly, as if that would delay the inevitable.

He almost breathed a sigh of relief, then stopped when he saw the look on Serena's face.

Serena saw Darien's cobalt blue eyes blank out for a second. Had she really hit him that hard? Serena didn't think so. Darien could handle more than that, but he was just being careless. When someone is not paying attention, the impact is ten times harder than if the person had prepared for the attack.

The memories were flooding back, and Darien finally realized why Serena was looking at him like that. The split second of surprise had cost him. He had done the worst thing that anyone in his line of business could do; he hesitated.

Darien turned back to the sink and continued to splash water on his face. The cuts stung a little, but it wasn't unbearable. In a few days, he would heal and forget about this whole mess.

His hand shot out for the towel that was usually hung on the rack beside the sink, but he couldn't find it. As Darien was blinking the droplets of water away from his eyes, he heard Serena give a deep sigh and the sound of her boots walking away.

He inspected the harsh whiteness of his face and wondered if he was suffering from shock. 'Naw,' he thought, 'I just need a tan—and this fluorescent light isn't helping much either.' Or maybe this lifestyle was getting to him. Maybe this whole poetic justice thing wasn't so justifiable to his conscience anymore.

Robbing people who screwed other people over seemed like a great idea all those years ago. Had it really been that long? Surprisingly, Darien was the one that came up with it. He had told Serena what a great idea it would be to take from the rich and give to the poor.

"We could just be like modern versions of Robin Hood!" he had exclaimed with glee.

But the missions grew more complicated and more risky. The game got more dangerous and the stakes got bigger with each job they took. Serena, who previously abhorred the idea, had taken to it soon after their first job. She was the one who began scouting for people, trying to see if they fit the look of someone who'd been kicked in the shins one too many times in their lives. Those types of people were bound to have powerful, and maybe even rich, enemies.

_The game isn't fun anymore_, Darien realized. Maybe it was time to put an end to it.

Serena came back with the soft red towels, fresh from the dryer. She handed it to Darien who seemed to be spacing out in front of the mirror. When he didn't reach for it, Serena frowned. Did Darien have the balls to do this next job? He was really getting soft for this sort of thing, and that was a big no-no.

Serena sighed. She began drying Darien's face, tentatively dabbing at the area of the bruise. She didn't think she could pack such a wallop, but maybe those extra hours at the gym were actually paying off.

Darien winced when he felt the towel on his scratches. He looked at Serena and saw concern on her face for the first time in a long while. Maybe he could talk some sense into her after all.

He smiled at her when he noticed that she was tiptoeing to get to his cheek. Even with the boots, she was still a short little munchkin. "What time is it?"

"About 6 o'clock," she replied without taking her gaze off his bruise.

"How long have I been out?"

"Not long."

"When are you gonna stop talking to me like this?"

Serena stopped patting his wound with the towel and turned her gaze to his. She stared at him, really stared at him, and it wasn't pretty. "When you get your act together."

Darien stared at his reflection in the mirror and his eyes grew hard. "My act IS together."

She shifted to stand in front of him and lightly touched the bruise. "No, it's not."

He moved her hand away and glared at her. "That wasn't fair, you caught me off guard."

Serena glared right back. "Not fair? Not fair! When the enemy is holding a gun to your head, you don't wonder if it's fair or not! The only thing you should be thinking about is how to get the gun pointed in another direction."

"That's the thing Serena, you're not the enemy. I can't live every second of my life looking over my shoulder, trying to see if someone is going to shoot me. You can't keep throwing these stupid tests in my face," he said while trying to keep his voice calm, "I have already proved, more than enough times, that I am capable of doing this job."

"That was before, Darien. Now… now I don't even know what you're thinking." Serena looked down on the floor and her shoulders even slumped a little. "Whatever. We can't have this discussion right now. We have a client."

Darien didn't want to stop, not when he had a chance to tell her that they didn't need to keep doing this for the rest of their lives. But he saw the slump in her shoulders, as if she were already defeated.

"Client? What client?"

"The client that's standing right outside the office door right now," she said, "Waiting for—quite some time now—a meeting."

"Who is he? How'd he find us? Why are we meeting him on such short notice? Why-?" Daren stopped abruptly as Serena held a finger to his lips to silence him.

"Enough with the questions. We've kept HER waiting long enough. Her name is Lita Andrews, the coordinator of the Save the Orphans Organization. And I found her, not the other way around."

"Why did you look for her?" he asked, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

"I heard she's in a bit of a financial trouble right now. Turns out the bank that's supposed to be sponsoring the organization bailed out on her. The president who made the agreement died last week, and his successor is, shall we say, a bit of a jackass."

"Oh."

"Right, well," she dragged him out the bathroom door and into her office, "Let's not keep her waiting anymore than she already has."

Serena led him to her desk, where he moved to lean against the wall with his arms crossed. Brooding was one of his favorite pastimes.

She crossed the short distance to the door and opened it to let their guest in. A tall, brown-haired woman walked into the room with a regal air of confidence. Her fit figure was clothed in a casual pair of jeans with a fitting short sleeved, dark green blouse. She surveyed her surroundings quickly, pausing for a moment at the only other occupant in the room. She raised her finely tweezed eyebrows at the sulking figure, and proceeded to ignore him.

"Lita Andrews," Serena gestured toward Darien, "Darien Renfield."

Lita gave a curt nod in his direction and continued to look around her. "Neat place you have here."

"Yeah, it's great," Serena responded conversationally, "Used to be a fish market ya know?"

Lita nodded thoughtfully. "Why have you asked me here?"

Serena's lip twitched as she tried to stop her smile from spreading. Bluntness seemed to be a common thing around here. Was it an orphan thing? Surely not.

"Please," Serena placed her hand on Lita's shoulder and guided her toward the chair in front of her desk, "Have a seat."

Lita sat, her posture ramrod straight. Any drill sergeant would be proud.

"Why have you asked me here Ms. Huntington?"

"Please, call me Serena," she smiled, "I'm not a politician so I won't beat around the bush. I heard that your organization is running into some money trouble. I'd like to help."

Lita looked at her suspiciously. "How did you find out and why do you want to help?"

Serena spread her arms out in an open gesture. "Well, as you can see Ms. Andrews—"

"Lita."

Serena nodded. "—Lita, I am a club owner. And as with any place constantly filled with people, word gets around."

"I don't believe you, but all right."

"You're very forward, Lita, bordering rude, but I like that. I want to help you because I have a personal interest in your organization."

"Personal, what do you mean?"

"Do you always interrogate potential sponsors like this?"

"Ms. Huntington, let me make myself clear. I've heard things about you, not all of it good. I only came here because a friend of mine vouched for you. I know I need the money, but I won't take any dirty money. Would I be incorrect to assume that the financial aid you are offering me has been gathered through illegal means in some way?" Lita was still sitting with military precision, but she smiled and leaned back, looking comfortable for the first time. It didn't seem like it was the first time she was dealing with crooks. But then, she wasn't supposed to know that they were crooks.

Serena clenched her teeth but remained outwardly poised. It was bad business to show anger, but people usually had a couple of drinks before they began insulting her. "Ms. Andrews, let me assure you that the money I am offering you is completely legit, as part of my personal profits from opening this club—"

Lita opened her mouth to protest.

"—And if you have any questions about the legitimacy of this club, coincidentally, some inspectors were here just today. Would you like to see their stamp of approval?"

Lita had the grace to blush. "I'm sorry, Ms. Huntington. I usually don't ask this many questions, but with your reputation and my recent dispute with a former sponsor…"

"It's all right, Lita. Now that that's settled, how about a round of drinks?"

Lita stood up and held her hand out. "I'm sorry, Serena, but I really have to run. Thanks for helping my organization."

Serena stood up, smiled, and they shook hands.

"I will have my financial advisor send over the necessary paperwork. Thanks again."

Serena closed the door behind Lita and smiled.

"Why are you grinning like a Cheshire cat for?" Darien asked, "And since when did we start donating to needy organizations?"

"You look better when you're not talking. Why won't you go back to being silent, like you were before?" Serena quipped.

"Ha-ha. Not funny. Now tell me what's going on."

"That, my old friend, was phase one of our next project," Serena replied as she plopped on her armchair and crossed her ankles on top of her desk.

"That can't be it. You look too pleased for your own good. I don't remember you ever getting this excited over one of our projects, at least not at this stage."

Darien moved to the cabinet that was near the _aloe vera_ and took out a bottle of cognac. He poured some for himself and gave one to Serena.

"We are going to rob a bank."

Darien nearly choked. "WHAT!"

"You heard me. We need to move on to bigger game."

"Serena. I thought that what we do is good, in a twisted kind of way. Stealing from the bank isn't! Innocent people put their money in banks!"

"Duh. What's the big deal? The bank I'm thinking of is FDIC insured, so the people will still have their money," Serena shrugged, "No biggie."

Darien shook his head. "Nuh-uh. I hear many words, but none of them good. Why are we doing this?"

"Well, remember the vice-president-turned-president of that bank that is not going to make good on sponsoring Lita's organization?"

"Yes. Need I remind you that it won't be his money that we're going to steal?"

Serena rolled her eyes. "Of course. Once word gets out that his bank has been robbed, people will have less confidence in saving their money there. Everyone will be making withdrawals and pretty soon…kaplop! No more bank!"

"All right. So what did he do that was so terrible that you're going to ruin him like that?"

"Darien…Darien," Serena prodded, "Come on. Do I really need to go into that much detail?"

He gave her a flat look.

"All right. You should've listened to the bullshit excuses he was dealing. Even though Lita and the former president signed a deal, he said that it is now void because the president is dead."

"How'd he die, by the way?"

"Heart attack."

"Oh."

"He was saying some nonsense that the president was getting old and he didn't have the members of the board approve of this transaction, that it was his personal venture, that the bank does not support it, that he left no mention of it in his will, and blah blah blah. A bunch of bullcrap. You're with me on this one, right Darien? You know what we hate most in the world."

"Deal breakers."

"Yes."

Serena leaned back and smiled smugly. "End of phase two."

"What!" Darien exclaimed, "Convincing me was part of the plan?"

"Of course. Why do you think I invited Lita over?"

Darien said nothing.

"I know you like her. I like her too. You're getting too soft Darien, so I had to bring in some convincing tools."

"Does Lita know about this?"

"No. Does it matter? What I said to her was true. I will be donating money to her."

"Out of your own pocket?"

" 'Course not. Why do you think we're robbing a bank for?"

"So you did lie to her. You said you would be offering your own money."

"Well, I will be initially. When I fill out the papers she's sending over, I will be writing a big fat check in my name that will be drawn out of my account."

Darien shook his head in distaste. "That's cutting it a little thin, Serena. Personal interest my ass. I almost thought you were doing it for the orphans."

"But I am Darien," Serena blinked innocently, "Remember the shitty food we had to eat? All those second-third-fourth-hand clothes? Those toys? I _am _doing it for the good of the orphans."

"Cut the crap, Serena. I see straight through you. No wonder you were so nice to those investigators. Not only are you going to financially devastate the banker and make the government pay for the losses, you're trying for tax exemptions for donating to a charity."

Serena shrugged and looked at her finely manicured nails. "It's a small plus."

"You are such a bitch."

Serena smiled devilishly. "I know it."

---

That's it for now. As always, feedback (preferably full ones) is greatly 


End file.
